Sheryle couldn't believe that her body wasn't satisfied. But it wasn't. Her pussy had tasted cock, now it was insatiable. It had to have more. She looked back over her bare shoulder at the man who had so expertly fucked her. He now stood, towering over her.
'Fuck me again,' she said weakly. 'I need it. My pussy needs it!'
'Slut!' was all he said as he walked off. She would have laughed at the sight of his limp, dangling prick except she remembered how nice it had felt when it was erect. She wanted even more of it.
And Sheryle didn't doubt for an instant that if she had laughed at Mr. Stanton that he would have returned with his whip. She didn't mind dressing up in incredibly sexy clothes, but the whip was the one thing she couldn't stand. The pain lancing into her body was terrible.
Especially when the very same man could give her heavenly delights using his cock.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'God, Sheryle, why are you dressed like that?' exclaimed Michael. The youth was still naked but he had been cut down. Now he was simply chained to a ring in the floor, the other end of the chain fastened to a collar on his neck.
'You like it?' she asked, spinning around to show off her sexy, kinky outfit. 'Mr. Stanton thinks I look good in it.'
She saw the way Michael's eyes had widened when she came waltzing into the room. She still wore the corset and stockings. The garter belt framed her pussy mound neatly. She had learned to walk in the high-heeled shoes given to her by their mysterious captor. Sheryle felt sinfully sexy. And used.
Every time Stanton came into the room, he fucked her. He would do it whether she wanted to screw or not. The girl's wishes meant nothing to him. And she was coming to enjoy it even as she hated it. The idea of being nothing but an object appalled her, but she loved the fucking. The feel of a good cock driving hard and fast and expertly into her twat was unmatched in her experience.
How she wished it had been Michael who had first fucked her. She still didn't know who it was in that darkened room but she guessed it was one of Mr. Stanton's games. He played games all the time. Sometimes he would dress her up like a wild animal and pretend he was a big game hunter.
Eventually, after chasing her around, he would catch her and fuck her. Another time he had beaten her with the whip until she was almost senseless. This had been the time when he had gotten off the best, she thought. His cum shot into her cunt like it had been fired from a cannon.
She should have loathed the man, but she couldn't. Amid all the pain and horror he brought her, she found herself admiring him. He was such a dominant figure. He knew what he wanted and he took it. She hated that and loved it at the same time.
Sheryle couldn't figure out exactly what she felt toward the man. He was everything to her, a father and a lover – and more. He disciplined her when he thought she needed it, and she was coming to agree with his decisions. That frightened her because she knew she was being used.
'Dressed up that way,' said Michael, 'you look like a cheap hooker.'
'Nothing cheap about me,' she snapped, immediately regretting her words. 'I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean that.'
'God, this whole thing is ruining both of us. We've got to escape. We just have to.'
'Yes, yes, anything. Michael,' she said, wondering if she really meant that. She didn't want to stay, but leaving presented problems of its own. She couldn't go back to her parents. They would laugh at her and say she had gotten what she deserved. That was if they even believed her. More likely, they would accuse her of lying. This entire adventure was so bizarre she hardly believed it.
A man in a mansion. Fucking in the total blackness of a posh bedroom. Being dressed up and whipped. Being chained and raped. Being abused, sucking on his cock only to have him come in her face. Getting pissed on.
That had bothered her the most. She had enjoyed the fucking, as she always did, but then Mr. Stanton had stood up, his legs on either side of her body and pissed in her face and on her lustrous red hair. It had been so degrading she had wanted to die.
But she was subservient and respectful the next time Mr. Stanton came to her room. He had left her alone for what seemed months, only an occasional tray of food being given to her as if she were some sort of leper.
The on-again, off-again treatment she received from the man bewildered her. One day she would be convinced the man was madly in love with her. The next, he would piss in her face.
But he was so commanding. When he spoke, she listened. He was so forceful, she wanted to obey him. He was unlike any man she had ever met, including Michael.
'If only I could get free,' the youth said. 'But I've tried. This lock looks simple, but it isn't. I'm going out of my mind trying to get it loose.'
Sheryle saw immediately that there was no lock. Rather, a complicated puzzle had been substituted. If they could work out the sequence, the entire puzzle would fall apart and free Michael.
'It seems so complex,' she said after studying it for a moment. 'I wonder if it's not really simple. That's the way those puzzles are, you know.'
'No, I don't know,' said Michael, pissed at her. 'Why the hell don't you show me?'
And she did. The chain came free in her hand with only a little work. The ease with which she had undone the lock amazed her.
'You did it!' cried Michael. 'And that son of a bitch seems to let you run free around here now. We can leave, both of us!'
She frowned, wondering what was wrong. Stanton usually kept her locked in the posh bedroom. But lately he hadn't even been chaining her. She had decided to see if her bedroom door was open, and it was. When Stanton said nothing about her excursions around the mansion, she had grown bolder.
Why had her status changed? She shrugged it off. It didn't matter. Maybe the man didn't think she had the nerve to escape. But hearing Michael, she knew she would. He lent her the strength needed to make the decision.
'Let's go, Sheryle. Now!'
They were an odd looking pair. She was dressed like a high-class whore and he was stark naked. Running through the deserted corridors of the mansion, they saw that the main door was open. Running for it, Michael found the door slammed in his face just as he reached it. Some automatic mechanism had closed it, locking the door securely.
'Damn, what's with this fucking thing?'
'Michael, look!' said the red-headed girl, suddenly frightened.
Advancing on them were two of the most vicious-looking dogs she had ever seen. She couldn't take her eyes off the dripping fangs, now bared. The dogs herded them back up the stairs, snarling and snapping hard at their heels. By the time they reached their room again, the dogs had vanished.
But in the room was Mr. Stanton, a frown on his face.
'You should not try to escape. The next time the dogs will rip your throats out. Consider yourselves lucky that this time I will only punish you.'
'Says you!' screamed Michael, launching himself at the man. The youth found himself hurtling through the air to land heavily on his back. Stanton had used a judo throw to effectively stop the teenager.
With movements more like a snake, Stanton soon had Michael chained flat to the floor. Spread-eagled, the youth was unable to move.
'Suck on his prick and get it hard. If you don't, I'll flog the flesh off both of your bones!'
The whip crashed into Sheryle's ass, sending a jolt of pain all the way through her body. She knew the welt raised on her soft, white ass would stay for weeks. She had other welts on her shoulders and back which had been there at least that long. They didn't leave permanent marks but seemed to take a painful forever to go away.
